NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Chapter 8
As Yang Hao disappeared into the distance, Luis Aragonés's slightly flushed face revealed a hint of admiration.
In less than 30 minutes, the two had polished off a bottle of red wine—a respectable showing for both.
Once Yang Hao was completely out of sight, Aragonés pulled out his Nokia mobile phone, pressed a number, and made a call. The other end picked up after a single ring.
"How did it go, Luis?"
"I talked to him for over 20 minutes, and I feel old," Aragonés replied with a wry smile.
"That kid always has something shocking to say," came Jesús Gil's voice, with a faint grumble. He still hadn't forgotten what Yang Hao had said during his initial interview.
"He's hiding a lot of secrets. I can't quite figure him out. But based on his tactical ideas, his coaching abilities, and the way he talked about the future during our conversation, I'm convinced—he's a coach with a vision. He's worth taking a chance on."
"Really?" Jesús Gil chuckled. "If even you think so, then I have nothing to worry about."
"You're seriously planning to give him full control over squad building?"
"Miguel has been completely won over by him. He's going on about how the club's management structure needs to be reformed, how we need better financial management, marketing professionals, global strategies—you name it!"
By the end of his rant, Jesús Gil was clearly irritated.
What did these youngsters think? That he'd done nothing over the past decade?
"I'm no expert in club management, but I do think there's something to be said for learning from the younger generation. Football has changed so much in the last few years—look at the Premier League. Their TV rights are through the roof!"
"I know all that. But this isn't something I can decide on my own. Real Madrid and Barcelona negotiate their own deals. How much can Atlético sell? Marketing and globalization—how do we even start? Are American companies going to sponsor us here in Spain?"
Aragonés furrowed his brow as he listened. These were areas he knew little about.
It was true, though: even getting front-of-shirt sponsors was a challenge for La Liga teams.
Otherwise, why would Jesús Gil have resorted to using Marbella's tourism board as Atlético's sponsor?
And it wasn't as if Marbella's booming tourism in recent years hadn't been partially driven by Jesús Gil's behind-the-scenes efforts.
"I still think you've learned your lesson. It's time to let go. As things stand, staying up this season shouldn't be a problem," Aragonés said, before suddenly recalling something.
"By the way, what's this deal about Yang Hao's contract? A performance-based deal? How much does he stand to make if he keeps you up?"
"Don't get me started. Back then, we were practically doomed. Miguel kept recommending him, so I thought I'd scare him off. But instead, he turned the tables on me. I had the numbers checked, and if he keeps us up, his bonus will be five million euros."
"Are you insane? Five million euros?"
"Worth it!" Jesús Gil replied decisively.
Five million euros to stay in La Liga? It was a bargain.
But from the perspective of La Liga coaches, it was outrageous.
What manager earned that kind of money back then? Even Van Gaal at Barcelona wasn't making that much.
"Wait—just the survival bonus? Nothing else?"
"There's more. There's a win bonus. And if he wins the Copa del Rey, there's a trophy bonus…"
Aragonés looked like he was about to lose his mind. "Are you out of your mind?"
"If I am, then so are Miguel, Enrique Cerezo, and Paulo Futre. We all agreed to this," Jesús Gil replied with a bitter laugh.
Back then, Atlético was on the verge of collapse. Everyone thought the ship was sinking and scrambled to jump overboard.
In those circumstances, who could've imagined Atlético surviving?
Who could've imagined them winning a trophy?
If someone had come to Jesús Gil at the time and said, "Give me five million euros, and I'll keep you in La Liga," he would've agreed without hesitation.
He wouldn't have blinked at ten million.
That was the reality of the situation.
"But where's the money going to come from?"
"That's what's driving me crazy. He hasn't seen a cent yet…"
It was clear that Jesús Gil was at his wit's end.
If he had the money, Atlético wouldn't have ended up in administration in the first place.
"I'll think of something," Jesús Gil sighed helplessly.
Aragonés could only shake his head. What else could he say? These weren't problems he understood.
Yang Hao left the meeting feeling a bit puzzled. There was something odd about Aragonés's sudden invitation to share a drink.
Still, as a solitary figure with little to his name, Yang Hao wasn't worried about being taken advantage of. He decided not to dwell on it.
As for the discussions within the Spanish Coaches Association that Aragonés mentioned, Yang Hao was already aware.
Some coaches, either through Juanma Lillo or Atlético's management, had reached out to Yang Hao, hoping to observe his training sessions and discuss his methods.
This kind of exchange was common enough in football circles.
However, Yang Hao had politely declined. He had too much on his plate.
The next match was a home game against Sevilla—another relegation scrap.
Yang Hao, though, was confident. Sevilla had just suffered a 0–4 thrashing at the hands of Mallorca and had already been relegated.
When Yang Hao thought of Sevilla, the first thing that came to mind was their academy.
In the coming years, Sevilla would produce a remarkable generation of talented players, including Sergio Ramos, José Antonio Reyes, Jesús Navas, Diego Capel, and Antonio Puerta. Under the guidance of sporting director Monchi, the club would also attract cost-effective Brazilian stars like Dani Alves, Júlio Baptista, and Adriano.
Sevilla would later earn the nickname Kings of the Europa League, with a jaw-dropping number of titles to their name.
At present, however, Sevilla's young talent was just beginning to emerge. Among them, José Antonio Reyes had already made a four-minute first-team appearance in a January match against Zaragoza. The left-sided player was undoubtedly talented—and it was all Gary Neville's fault!
Although Yang Hao had been coaching Atlético Madrid for only a month, he had already begun noticing a recurring issue in Spanish football: physicality.
Spanish players tended to fall into two extremes. Defensive players in the backline were often overly aggressive and rough, while technically gifted midfielders and forwards were often physically fragile. This physical limitation was especially apparent in attacking players.
Reyes, as well as future stars like Jesús Navas, struggled to adapt to the physicality of the Premier League due to their lack of strength.
Yang Hao couldn't help but wonder if this physicality was one reason why Johan Cruyff's possession-based philosophy didn't thrive in the Netherlands but succeeded at Barcelona. Spanish players, with their smaller statures and refined techniques, seemed better suited to such an approach.
Of course, there were exceptions.
Joaquín, the right winger for Real Betis, was a unique case. His physical attributes set him apart from the typical Spanish winger, making him a true anomaly.
Sometimes, success really came down to fate.
After Round 36, Atlético Madrid successfully climbed out of the relegation zone with their victory over Oviedo.
Numancia also won their match 2–0 against Espanyol, leaving Atlético in 17th place in La Liga, three points ahead of 18th-placed Oviedo.
Real Betis sat in 19th with 39 points, while Sevilla remained bottom with just 27 points.
Having spent months languishing in the relegation zone, Atlético's escape caused a massive stir across Spain.
Yang Hao, in particular, became the focal point of attention.
After the round concluded, the media and fans alike credited Yang Hao as the primary architect of Atlético's survival.
Marca even wrote:
"Despite coaching only four La Liga matches, Yang Hao has completely transformed Atlético Madrid's style of play, giving the team a rebirth."
"This 25-year-old prodigy is attracting increasing attention from La Liga clubs, with his innovative tactical philosophy receiving widespread acclaim and admiration in the football world."
Reading the report the next morning, Yang Hao couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed.
"Am I really drawing that much attention from other La Liga clubs?" he wondered aloud. "I haven't even received a single call, have I?"
Juanma Lillo burst out laughing. "If they're watching you, they're not going to tell you directly!"
Yang Hao conceded the point with a nod. Either way, he had already decided to stay at Atlético Madrid. This club gave him the foundation he needed to build upon.
As Yang Hao and Lillo were chatting, Parales poked his head through the door, looking slightly sheepish.
"What's with the sneaking around? Did you steal something?" Lillo teased.
Ignoring him, Parales smiled at Yang Hao. "Boss, I've got a question for you."
"Go ahead."
"Do you still need your tickets for the weekend's match?"
Yang Hao laughed. "I'm on my own. What would I need tickets for? Don't you have your own?"
Each member of the coaching staff, players, and club employees received an allocation of tickets for every home match, though the exact number varied.
Yang Hao typically received 10 tickets, which he left on his desk for anyone who needed them.
"Not enough. Between my family and my girlfriend's family—"
"You have a girlfriend now?" Lillo exclaimed, as if Parales had just revealed he was from another planet.
Parales shot him a disdainful glance.
"Boss, you don't know this, but this weekend's match is our last home game of the season, and it's crucial for our survival. Tickets are in insane demand—scalpers outside are selling them for a fortune."
"Seriously?" Lillo asked, surprised.
After all, Atlético was a capital city club with a massive fanbase.
"Don't worry. Take as many as you need from my allocation. If that's not enough, I'll arrange for more," Yang Hao said, waving off the issue. It was a minor favor, easily done.
"Wait a second," Yang Hao said, suddenly remembering something he'd been meaning to do.
"I've got an important task for you later," he told Parales.
Hearing this, Parales instantly perked up, visibly excited.
South of Madrid, in Fuenlabrada.
It was a quiet and ordinary afternoon.
The weather was growing hotter, and most of the kids who usually braved the scorching sun to play football had been dragged home by their parents for a siesta. The streets of Avenida de Alemania were uncharacteristically still.
On the second floor of a street-facing house, a window suddenly opened. Out poked a freckle-faced boy, his drowsy expression revealing he'd just woken from a nap. He scanned the street, clearly looking for something—or someone.
Unfortunately, his father's car was nowhere in sight.
Disappointed, the boy closed the window. But just as he was about to pull it shut completely, a familiar honk startled him. He quickly reopened the window, leaning so far out that half his body dangled in the air.
Sure enough, there it was—the old, familiar car pulling into view.
"Dad's back! Dad's home!" the boy shouted, dashing out of his room.
He sprinted down the stairs with a thud, thud, thud and stopped at the front door just as his father got out of the car.
Standing at the entrance were three eagerly waiting children, their eyes full of hope. Their father, José Torres—once a player in Atlético Madrid's youth system—hesitated, guilt clouding his face.
"I'm sorry, kids," he said, sighing. "I tried my best, but I could only get two tickets, and I need to give them to your grandparents."
The light in the children's eyes dimmed, replaced by visible disappointment.
"Still no tickets?"
"Fernando, why don't you ask your coach again?" suggested his older brother, Esla, nudging him with an elbow.
"Yeah, ask him," added his sister, Maripaz. "I've been looking forward to this match for so long. It's the key to staying up! Missing it would be such a shame."
The freckled boy, Fernando, pursed his lips, frustration evident. "I already asked. He said no."
After a pause, he turned to his sister with a sly grin. "You should have your boyfriend get us some tickets instead."
Esla nodded in agreement. "He's got a point, sis."
"I already told him my little brother plays for Atlético," Maripaz replied awkwardly.
The three siblings let out a collective sigh.
Standing nearby, José Torres felt equally helpless.
"I'm sorry, kids," he said again. "I really thought I'd manage to get some. But my friends told me this game's tickets are impossible to come by. The team's doing better and better, and every fan wants to be there to cheer them on. Scalpers have driven the prices through the roof."
"Dad, I think we should get season tickets," Fernando suggested. "That way, we'd have priority access to regular tickets."
José smiled at his youngest son. "Once you make it to the first team, I'll buy season tickets for the whole family. Then we'll all be there to cheer you on."
Esla and Maripaz both chimed in enthusiastically, "You'd better step it up, Fernando!"
"Didn't they say the first team wanted you earlier? What happened?" Maripaz asked curiously.
"I'm not sure," Fernando admitted. "I was on break when it happened. I heard Yang Hao wanted to bring four players up, but only two made it—one's Pablo García, who's now a starter, and the other's Antonio López, who's come on as a sub."
"And you?" Esla asked, clearly more interested in the promised season tickets than Fernando's career.
"Yeah, why haven't you been called up yet? You signed your professional contract ages ago," Maripaz added, her impatience showing.
Fernando sighed heavily. "I've been waiting too. But it feels like Yang Hao has forgotten about me."
His freckled face betrayed his unease and uncertainty about the future.
The Torres family wasn't wealthy.
José, once part of Atlético's youth academy, hadn't had much of a professional career. Instead, he dedicated himself to nurturing his children.
Esla lacked any football talent, but Fernando stood out from a young age, excelling enough to join Atlético's academy. As a promising prospect, Fernando had signed a professional contract last year, but he had yet to make it to the first team.
For him, football wasn't just a career—it was a chance to change his family's destiny.
"It's okay," José reassured him. "You know how busy things are right now. Yang Hao has so much on his plate—fighting for survival in La Liga, the Copa del Rey—it's chaotic at the club. I'm sure he just hasn't had time to think about you."
"When next season starts and things settle down, I'm sure he'll remember you."
Fernando nodded, but the disappointment on his face didn't fade.
He desperately wanted to be at the Calderón for the next match, to witness firsthand the moment his beloved team secured their place in La Liga.
Rumor had it that across Madrid, fan clubs were organizing events. Some fans even edited photos of Yang Hao, portraying him as a savior to show their gratitude and respect.
If not for him, Atlético would have been relegated to the Segunda División this season—a catastrophe too painful to imagine.
"Alright, kids," José suggested, "why don't we set up a nice dinner in the yard and watch the game on TV together?"
"Fine," the children replied, their voices heavy with resignation.
It wasn't ideal, but it was the best they could do.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
"Who could that be?" José muttered, heading to the door.
Standing outside was a young man. He looked familiar, but José couldn't immediately place him.
"Hello. Is this Fernando Torres's home?" the man asked with a warm smile.
"Yes, it is. May I ask who you are?"
"I'm José Carlos García Parales, a physiotherapist for Atlético Madrid's first team," said the young man with a warm smile.
It was then that the Torres family noticed his training gear, marked with Atlético's logo.
Fernando, the freckle-faced boy, suddenly remembered where he had seen Parales before. He often spotted him alongside Yang Hao during training sessions and matches.
The realization sent a shiver of excitement down Fernando's spine.
Could it be? It had to be! Yang Hao hadn't forgotten him after all!
"Mr. Yang Hao asked me to deliver a message," Parales said, his smile growing. "Fernando, he wants you to attend this weekend's match in person. He also asked you to prepare yourself—starting next week, you'll be training with the first team. And you'll travel to Mallorca before the weekend match."
For a moment, the entire Torres family was stunned.
When happiness comes too suddenly, it's hard to process.
Fernando had dreamed of joining the first team, but he never expected to be called up in such dramatic fashion—let alone to be told he might play.
"Isn't this the critical moment in the fight to avoid relegation?" José Torres asked, both surprised and worried.
Was the coach really planning to send his son onto the pitch at such a crucial time?
Parales nodded with a grin. "Mr. Yang Hao said it's for the final match."
"And what's the difference?"
"After we beat Sevilla in Round 37, we'll secure survival," Parales said confidently.
José Torres was taken aback.
The confidence! It was almost unbelievable—but why did it feel so exhilarating to hear?
Securing safety early would mean they could play the younger players in the last match. It would be a double victory: survival and a chance for the youth to shine.
"But we don't have tickets for this weekend," Fernando said, disappointment creeping back in.
Parales chuckled, finding the freckle-faced boy's earnestness endearing.
"If Mr. Yang Hao says he wants you there, there's no way he'd leave you without tickets. Here's what we'll do—let me know how many tickets your family needs, and I'll pass the request to Mr. Yang Hao. He'll make sure you have them."
"Really?" The entire family perked up, their excitement renewed.
"Of course," Parales said with a nod.
He knew how much Yang Hao valued Fernando. The coach had mentioned the boy several times, often lamenting that he hadn't yet found time to meet him. Now that Yang Hao had remembered, he had made Fernando's inclusion a priority.
Still, Parales didn't linger at the Torres home. Yang Hao had also sent him to visit another young talent: Gabi, another player the coach highly regarded.
After Parales left, the Torres household erupted into cheers.
"Fernando, you'd better give it your all! It's clear that Mr. Yang Hao believes in you!" José Torres reminded his son, his tone both excited and earnest.
Fernando nodded with determination. Like every Atlético fan, he saw Yang Hao as a hero. Being part of his plans was a tremendous honor.
"Dad, does this mean we're still going to have that big dinner?" Maripaz asked, hesitant to invite her boyfriend until she had a clear answer.
"Yes, we're doing it! Tonight!" José Torres declared, his enthusiasm uncontainable.
Meanwhile, Yang Hao remained unaware of the joy his gesture had sparked in two households near Madrid.
He was locked away at Atlético's training ground in Majadahonda, meticulously preparing for the upcoming match against Sevilla.
Though he was confident, Yang Hao didn't allow himself to get complacent.
Sevilla was already relegated, but underestimating them could lead to disaster.
After all, even a legendary coach like Vicente del Bosque had ruined Real Madrid's centennial celebration with a slip-up. Yang Hao was determined not to let anything similar happen to him.
Word around Madrid was that Atlético fans were in a frenzy over this weekend's match.
According to Miguel Gil, the atmosphere was akin to a championship final.
It wasn't an exaggeration.
For many mid-to-lower table teams, securing survival was as joyous as winning a title. The only difference was the scale of celebration—winning the league might warrant a victory parade, but staying up wouldn't dare go that far to avoid mockery.
None of this, however, stopped fans from celebrating wildly.
Rumor had it that even Madrid's police department had taken notice, coordinating with Atlético to bolster security around the Calderón and requesting logistical support from the club.
The scale of the operation left Yang Hao amazed.
This was the first time he'd seen such a commotion, but it gave him a deeper understanding of football's significance in the city and among its fans.
Precisely because of that, Yang Hao knew this match was one he absolutely could not lose.
On the evening of May 12, the Calderón Stadium was packed to capacity.
55,000 Atlético fans poured into the stands, ready to cheer their hearts out for the most crucial match of the season.
Standing in the locker room, Yang Hao could clearly hear the deafening roar of the crowd outside.
Tonight, the fans were truly electric.
Yang Hao stood before his players, his expression solemn.
The players looked back at him, anticipating his final pep talk before the decisive battle.
"The past month has flown by," Yang Hao began, his tone calm yet steady.
"To be honest, when I first took over this team, I wasn't completely certain we'd make it. But there's one thing I've always firmly believed: a team like ours doesn't belong in the relegation zone."
The players nodded in agreement.
"I've always believed that if a team like Atlético finds itself in this position, it must be because we've done something wrong. And as long as I help you correct those mistakes, we'll survive."
"And the results prove me right!"
Yang Hao spread his hands in a gesture of confidence—not boasting, but demonstrating his unshakable belief.
From the moment he took charge, he had worked tirelessly to instill one unwavering mindset in his players: a team like Atlético Madrid, with its quality and resources, should never be relegated.
"Tonight, this should be our final step to safety. Win this match, and we're officially safe!"
He gestured toward the locker room door. "Out there, 55,000 fans are waiting for you—their brave warriors. They'll give you the strength to fight for every ball, complete every pass, and execute every attack perfectly."
"A month ago, I told you we were creating a miracle and writing a legend. Tonight is a critical chapter in that story—but it's not the final one."
"Because we still have the Copa del Rey final to play!"
"But tonight, I want each of you to play this game as if it were the Champions League final, or the World Cup final!"
"I believe you won't let yourselves down, you won't let this jersey down, and you certainly won't let down the 55,000 fans here, or the countless others outside this stadium—in Madrid, and across Spain—who are cheering for Atlético!"
"Now, get out there and take down Sevilla!"
This was far from a balanced matchup.
Sevilla was already relegated, while Atlético was on the brink of securing survival. In terms of morale and strength, the two teams were clearly on different levels.
But as the saying goes, when you least expect it, expect the unexpected.
Despite their predicament, Sevilla fought tooth and nail on the pitch, every player giving their all.
Yang Hao quickly realized they weren't playing for survival—they were playing for pride.
One team was fighting to stay up; the other, for dignity. There was nothing left to say—just fight!
From the opening whistle, Atlético launched an aggressive assault, deploying their signature high press and full-throttle attack. Sevilla, on the other hand, adopted a 4-4-2 formation with a compact defense, trying to hold off the onslaught.
The match was intense, a fiery battle from the start.
One stat highlighted the ferocity of the game: within the first 30 minutes, the two teams racked up eight yellow cards. Tensions ran so high that a scuffle nearly broke out, underscoring just how heated the contest was.
Finally, in the 32nd minute, Atlético broke the deadlock.
At the edge of the box, Valerón received the ball with his back to goal. Faking a move to his left, he spun around, creating space for a pass to the right. Baraja charged in, controlled the ball, and fired a rocket into the net.
1-0!
The goal boosted Atlético's morale and dealt a blow to Sevilla's resolve.
Just before halftime, Solari burst down the left wing, powering through the defense before delivering a pinpoint cross to Valerón. The midfielder deftly slotted the ball into the net.
2-0!
During the break, Sevilla's coach, Álvarez, made a substitution, bringing on Uruguayan forward Marcelo Zalayeta for striker Lauren.
Interestingly, Sevilla's starting forwards, Juan Carlos and Lauren, were both Atlético academy products. Zalayeta, meanwhile, was on loan from Juventus but had yet to make a significant impact.
Álvarez's strategy was clear: use a target man to exploit Atlético's historical weakness against aerial threats.
But this was no longer the Atlético of old.
Yang Hao made no tactical changes at halftime. His team pressed on with relentless intensity, determined to finish Sevilla off.
In the 59th minute, Aguilera whipped in a cross from the right. Sevilla center-back Marchena and Hasselbaink both failed to meet the ball, which fell to Solari at the far post.
The Argentine winger controlled it beautifully, sidestepped his defender, and coolly slotted the ball into the near corner.
3-0!
At this point, the outcome was beyond doubt.
Though Sevilla fought hard, their lack of quality was evident. Tactically, they were outmatched and overwhelmed, with Atlético dominating the match.
By halftime, Sevilla had managed just one shot on goal—a testament to how thoroughly they were being smothered.
Even with Zalayeta on the pitch, they failed to turn the tide.
Atlético had seized control, and survival was within their grasp.
In the 78th minute of the match, Valerón found space and received a pass from Baraja. He turned, carried the ball forward, and unleashed a pinpoint, surgical through ball to the right side of the penalty area.
Hasselbaink muscled past Marchena, unleashed a powerful strike with his right foot, and scored yet another goal for Atlético.
4-0!
The Dutch striker had all but secured the La Liga Golden Boot!
If the first 30 minutes of the match were fiercely contested and tightly balanced, the subsequent period saw Atlético playing aggressive, high-octane football.
Under Yang Hao's guidance, this was arguably the team's most dynamic attacking display to date, leaving Sevilla dizzy and disoriented.
When Hasselbaink shrugged off Marchena to fire the ball into the net, in one corner of the stands, a freckle-faced Fernando Torres erupted into cheers, his eyes brimming with admiration.
He, too, was a striker.
"Hasselbaink's individual skill is truly remarkable," said José Torres, Fernando's father, noticing his son's enthralled expression.
As a man who had once played the game himself, José couldn't help but feel a surge of passion for the Dutchman's performance.
"My height is greater than his, and my explosiveness isn't far off, but I'm nowhere near his level in terms of strength or physicality," Fernando admitted with a touch of frustration, aware of his own limitations.
"And your technical finesse—especially your movement and transitions—still needs significant work," his father observed with a critical eye.
José could see the potential in his son. Fernando had undeniable talent but still needed to improve his technique and build his strength to succeed at the top level.
Fernando nodded firmly, then glanced toward the Atlético dugout where Yang Hao stood.
His determination hardened.
I'll make sure Yang Hao notices me again—I won't let him down!
"This is it—we're safe!"
In the chairman's box, Miguel Gil was already beside himself with excitement as Hasselbaink scored.
4-0! Atlético was in total control, demonstrating the composure and dominance of a top team.
The players showed remarkable focus and commitment, reflecting the impressive chemistry they'd built under Yang Hao's leadership.
Tonight's performance was a culmination of weeks of hard work and adjustments, spearheaded by a stunning opening goal from Baraja that set the tone for the match.
"Under Yang Hao's management, the biggest revelation in our team has been Valerón and Baraja," said Paulo Futre with a smile. "Especially Baraja. His relentless running, defensive contributions, and increasingly impressive attacking play have been phenomenal. Our old system held him back, but now he's thriving."
Everyone had known Valerón was a genius—his brilliance came as no surprise.
Baraja, however, was a revelation.
Previously underestimated, he was now flourishing in Yang Hao's 4-2-3-1 system, his performances catching the eye of fans and pundits alike.
Of course, his success was also supported by the defensive work of Pablo García and Bejbl, who provided him with the freedom to roam forward without worry.
"Yang Hao really has an eye for players," Miguel Gil added, praising his friend.
"Before the season started, he specifically told us to keep an eye on Carlos Marchena. The young defender has been excellent this season, and even tonight, he's held his own against Hasselbaink. Considering our attack's firepower, that's no small feat."
"Does Yang Hao want to sign him?" Jesús Gil asked curiously.
Paulo Futre chimed in, "Marchena has been impressive, but his market value has risen sharply—he'll cost over five million euros now."
"Yang Hao believes Marchena is a future Spanish international," Miguel Gil replied. "But in his transfer plans, he's not a priority."
Hearing the first part of that statement, everyone's eyes lit up. A future Spanish international!
But the latter part left them stunned.
If a player of Marchena's caliber wasn't a priority, who exactly was Yang Hao planning to sign?
Marchena's price was already high at five million euros. Any player better than him would cost significantly more.
Could Atlético afford such signings?
Noticing his father's questioning gaze, Miguel Gil grinned confidently.
"Yang Hao said he doesn't need the club to invest. As long as we give him the funds from player sales, he'll handle the transfers. Not only will he save the club millions in salary expenses, but he also believes he can turn a profit of several million—perhaps even more than ten million euros—on the transfer market."
"Most importantly, he promises the team will be even stronger next season."
Enrique Cerezo, Paulo Futre, and Clemente Villaverde were dumbfounded.
How was that even possible?
Even Jesús Gil, who had been briefed beforehand, felt his blood pumping with excitement.
Yang Hao always managed to defy expectations.
In keeping with tradition, the final two rounds of La Liga were scheduled to be played simultaneously to ensure fairness.
When Atlético Madrid sealed a 4-0 victory over Sevilla at the Calderón, effectively condemning the future Europa League kings to relegation, the results of other crucial matches also rolled in.
Real Oviedo staged a dramatic comeback, overturning an early deficit to defeat Rayo Vallecano 2-1. The winning goal came in the 80th minute, courtesy of Ania, sending coach Luis Aragonés into a frenzy of excitement.
Perhaps Oviedo's last-minute goal shook Numancia to their core. In their away match against Alavés, Numancia initially looked poised for victory, scoring in the 35th and 76th minutes to lead 2-0.
But after Ania's decisive strike for Oviedo, something inexplicable happened to Numancia.
They conceded goals in the 82nd and 86th minutes, their defense crumbling under pressure.
And in the dying moments of stoppage time, Alavés completed a stunning turnaround with a third goal.
In a span of 10 minutes, Numancia collapsed, losing 3-2.
Elsewhere, Real Sociedad played to a 0-0 draw with Barcelona, earning 44 points after 37 rounds.
With Atlético's emphatic 4-0 victory over Sevilla, the team climbed to 45 points, surpassing both Numancia and Real Sociedad to secure 16th place in La Liga.
Below Atlético on the table were Real Sociedad, Real Oviedo, Numancia, Real Betis, and Sevilla.
Hiddink's Betis suffered a 2-0 home defeat to Real Madrid, sealing their fate in the relegation zone.
While Oviedo and Numancia were tied on points, Oviedo's superior head-to-head record placed them higher in the standings.
We did it!
When the final whistle blew, the Calderón erupted into a sea of red and white jubilation.
55,000 Atlético fans roared in unison, celebrating as though their team had just won a championship.
Yang Hao thrust both fists into the air, a mixture of satisfaction and relief washing over him.
The hardest battle was behind them.
Atlético Madrid had secured their La Liga status with one match to spare!
In that moment, Yang Hao felt an overwhelming urge to shout, to run around the pitch in celebration. But he held it in, keeping his composure.
In just over a month, it felt as though he'd lived through years of tension and intensity.
Now, as the pressure eased, he found himself almost disoriented by the sudden calm.
But his reprieve was short-lived.
There was still unfinished business—a Copa del Rey final against Atlético's most loathed rival, Real Madrid.
The thought reawakened Yang Hao's focus and determination.
At that moment, across the expansive stands of the Calderón, fans began to lift colored placards.
Gradually, a massive tifo unfurled, blanketing the stands.
It depicted Atlético's iconic red and white stripes and the club's crest, with an unmistakable centerpiece: a stylized portrait of Yang Hao as a savior.
As the colossal tifo emerged, the stadium erupted into thunderous applause. Fans chanted Yang Hao's name with unrelenting fervor.
Yang Hao, caught off guard, was deeply moved.
He understood the effort and coordination required to create such a display. The fans had chosen to honor him—a coach who had only been with the club for a little over a month.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Mendioto approached, smiling.
"You knew about this?" Yang Hao asked, surprised.
"How else would they have gotten such high-resolution photos of you?" Mendioto laughed. "Actually, lots of people knew. But no one wanted to spoil the surprise."
"It's a great surprise," Yang Hao said, smirking. "Now I'll have to sue all of you for violating my image rights."
Mendioto chuckled, unbothered by the playful threat.
"Thank you, Yang. You saved Atlético. Thank you!"
With those words, Mendioto opened his arms and hugged Yang Hao tightly, overcome with emotion.
The fans noticed this moment and broke into even louder cheers.
The players soon gathered around their coach, joining in the celebration. Someone suggested tossing Yang Hao into the air, a traditional gesture of victory.
Yang Hao quickly and sternly refused.
"Tossing the coach is for winning trophies, not just avoiding relegation. That's tradition in football!"
Captain Aguilera nodded in agreement. "True, we only toss the coach if we win a championship. That's the rule."
Relieved, Yang Hao began to walk away.
But just as he let his guard down, Aguilera lunged forward, grabbing him with surprising strength for someone only 1.73 meters tall.
Professional athletes are no joke, Yang Hao realized too late.
Before he could protest, the entire squad joined in, hoisting him into the air.
"At Atlético, we don't care about the rules!" Aguilera shouted.
"Throw him up!"
"Let's do it!"
Yang Hao's shouts of protest were drowned out by laughter and cheers.
As they tossed him into the air, he tensed up, terrified, and barely resisted the urge to scream for help.
But in the end, he couldn't hold it in any longer.
Laughter erupted as Yang Hao finally gave in, sharing in the joy of the moment.
"Hey, hey, hey! Be careful and catch me properly! Don't let go!"
Atlético Madrid secured their survival with one round to spare, a piece of news that sparked heated discussions across Spain.
Following the conclusion of Matchday 37, the club's success became a hot topic not just in Spain but across Europe and the footballing world.
Who would have thought that a 25-year-old rookie coach, in just over a month, could rescue a team that Ranieri and Antic had left deep in the relegation zone?
More importantly, after a string of consecutive victories—including a resounding 4-0 win over Sevilla—Atlético's goal difference had improved significantly. Even if they lost to Mallorca in the final round, relegation was no longer a concern.
For Atlético to fall back into the danger zone, Oviedo, Numancia, and Real Sociedad would all need to win their respective matches in the final round.
But that was impossible.
Why?
Because Real Oviedo and Real Sociedad were playing each other.
One of them was guaranteed to drop points.
With just one round remaining, the tables had turned entirely. Real Sociedad was now pulled into the fray, while Atlético rose above the turmoil.
Spain's media erupted with coverage of the dramatic turnaround, with most of the praise directed squarely at Yang Hao.
A month earlier, most had written Atlético off as doomed. But Yang Hao had brought them back from the brink.
Not only that, but Atlético had also reached the Copa del Rey final.
While survival had always been the top priority, a potential Copa victory would be the icing on the cake. Winning the cup would also qualify Atlético for the following season's UEFA Cup—a prestigious achievement.
The UEFA Cup of 2000 was vastly different from the tournament it would become in later years. With the 1998 restructuring, UEFA merged the Cup Winners' Cup into the UEFA Cup, and the Champions League had undergone a significant expansion. These changes, coupled with the introduction of UEFA's ranking points system, meant that the UEFA Cup still held considerable prestige in this era.
For Atlético, staying in La Liga and securing European competition would be a monumental double achievement.
The media frenzy was relentless, but Yang Hao remained resolutely silent, refusing to grant interviews.
"He's still throwing a tantrum," some reporters joked.
At the post-match press conference, Mendioto lightheartedly addressed the media: "Just give him a bit more time."
While the joke got a laugh, the team's focus shifted immediately to the Copa del Rey final, scheduled for two weeks later.
This two-week preparation window was a godsend for Atlético.
In contrast, Real Madrid was still battling for a Champions League spot.
After Matchday 37, Madrid sat in fourth place, just one point ahead of Valencia in fifth and Alavés in sixth. This meant that in the final round, Madrid had no choice but to go all out against Valladolid.
And Valladolid, known for their tenacity this season, wouldn't go down easily.
To make matters worse for Madrid, they were also preparing for the Champions League final against Valencia on May 24.
Three days later, on May 27, Atlético and Real Madrid would face off at Valencia's Mestalla Stadium to decide the Copa del Rey winner.
Three matches in one week, all of them must-win games—this would be an immense test for Real Madrid.
Recognizing this, Yang Hao announced post-match that the team would get two days off, albeit staggered, which sent a wave of excitement through the locker room.
Paid leave? What's not to love?
Yang Hao also reminded his players that while survival had been secured, they needed to maintain momentum and seize the opportunity to defeat an exhausted Real Madrid in the Copa final.
The players' morale soared.
The morning after the victory over Sevilla, following a recovery session, Yang Hao called for Pallarés to summon Juan Carlos Valerón to his office.
With survival secured and his decision to stay confirmed, Yang Hao felt it was time to address other pressing matters.
In football, as in life, timing is everything. Now that Atlético's fate was no longer in doubt, plans for the summer transfer window needed to be put into motion.
When Valerón entered the office and Pallarés closed the door behind him, Yang Hao wasted no time. Fixing Valerón with a direct gaze, he got straight to the point:
"Tell me, Juan—will you stay with us after this season ends?"
When Yang Hao asked this question, Valerón froze. The piercing gaze from his coach made him feel a pang of guilt, as if he were a child caught doing something wrong.
But he wasn't a child. He was an adult, and a man with strong moral principles.
After a moment of hesitation, clearly torn, Valerón finally made his decision.
"I'm sorry, boss. I can't lie to you."
"It's fine. Go ahead," Yang Hao said, already braced for the answer.
"I've already agreed terms with Deportivo La Coruña."
Yang Hao had expected this but still closed his eyes momentarily, disappointment flickering across his face. "When did this happen?"
"Before you arrived," Valerón admitted, his tone apologetic. "At the time, the club was in chaos, and we were all panicking. Everyone was looking for new opportunities, and several clubs approached me. Deportivo was one of them."
Valerón hesitated before continuing, stealing a glance at Yang Hao, who remained expressionless. This only made him feel more ashamed.
"Coach Irureta contacted me personally. He promised I'd have a key role at Deportivo, competing directly with Djalminha for the starting spot in midfield."
One side offered a crumbling Atlético Madrid. The other, a thriving Deportivo aiming to cement its status as a superpower in Spanish football. The choice had been obvious.
"I see," Yang Hao murmured, managing a wry smile.
Valerón's guilt deepened. His new coach had trusted and empowered him, building the entire system around his strengths. Yet he had already committed to leaving.
"Honestly, if you had arrived earlier, I wouldn't have agreed to join them, but…" Valerón's voice trailed off, his shame evident.
"It's fine," Yang Hao said, brushing it off with a nonchalant wave. "I get it."
But to Valerón, that calm smile looked like a mask concealing disappointment.
"Since it happened before my tenure, I can't fault you," Yang Hao said with a sigh. "But can you at least tell me—who else has Deportivo been speaking to?"
Valerón's eyes widened slightly before lowering his gaze. He couldn't bring himself to answer.
Yang Hao, sensing his reluctance, didn't press further.
"I understand," he said, waving dismissively. "Don't worry about it."
In truth, Yang Hao already knew.
In his previous life, three Atlético players—Valerón, Capdevila, and Molina—had all moved to Deportivo. All three became integral to Deportivo's success and earned call-ups to the Spanish national team.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say: "Atlético falls, Deportivo feasts."
This time, however, Yang Hao was determined to change the narrative.
"Juan, let me be honest. If I'd been here earlier, things might have been different. But I'll respect your decision."
Hearing this, Valerón's guilt deepened.
"There's no undoing the past. You made your choice, and we'll honor it. But I need you to promise me two things."
"Name them. As long as it's within my power, I'll do it!" Valerón said earnestly.
"First, in the Copa del Rey final, give it everything you've got. Help us win that trophy."
"I swear, boss. I'll give it my all," Valerón vowed.
"Second, during the summer transfer negotiations, keep your agent in check. Don't help Deportivo lowball us."
Yang Hao sighed, then explained: "You know our financial situation isn't great. Morale has been shaky for months, and I'm sure you're not the only one Deportivo has approached."
The flicker in Valerón's eyes confirmed Yang Hao's suspicions.
Deportivo had clearly set its sights on raiding Atlético, taking advantage of its fragile state.
"Deportivo's waiting for the club to be relegated so they can swoop in and drive down prices," Yang Hao continued. "But now, they won't get that chance."
Deportivo's championship-winning season had secured them a spot in the Champions League, which came with a financial windfall. Strengthening their squad was a given, and Atlético's players were prime targets.
Yang Hao's stance was clear: If they wanted his players, they'd have to pay up.
"Promise me, Juan. Don't make things harder than they already are," Yang Hao said, seeking a commitment.
Valerón looked up, his guilt replaced by resolve.
"I promise, boss. I won't let you down."
Yang Hao gave him a small smile. "Good. Let's focus on what's ahead. We've got a final to win."
As Valerón left the office, Yang Hao leaned back in his chair, lost in thought.
Molina, Capdevila… they're next.
He didn't need to ask. Their departures were practically written in stone.
But if Deportivo wanted them, they'd have to play by Yang Hao's rules.
"Atlético's rebuilding begins now," he told himself. "And this time, it's on my terms."
Valerón hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.
"I promise, boss. I guarantee it!"
"This will benefit you too, Juan. You'll see if Deportivo and Irureta truly value you as much as they claim."
Before Yang Hao took over as manager, Valerón's market value was roughly €12 million. However, thanks to his standout performances in the past month—especially with Atlético securing safety—Valerón's stock had skyrocketed.
At this point, any club looking to sign him would need to shell out at least €15 million. Yang Hao's ideal range was between €15-20 million.
If the player or his agent colluded with Deportivo, though, it could put Atlético in a difficult position.
"The situation has shifted a bit," Yang Hao said that afternoon.
Though the team had begun its short vacation, the coaching staff continued working. Later that evening, Miguel Gil personally brought a bottle of wine to the training base in Majadahonda to meet with Yang Hao.
As they shared a meal, their conversation naturally turned to the current state of the squad.
"It's worse than I expected," Yang Hao admitted, his tone slightly aggrieved.
He recounted his earlier conversation with Valerón, sharing his suspicions.
"Valerón, Molina, and Capdevila—I believe all three have already reached agreements with Deportivo."
Miguel Gil clenched his fists in frustration, tempted to slam the table but holding back.
Even with his loyalty to Atlético, Yang Hao couldn't fully blame the players for their actions.
True, negotiating with another club while still under contract was unprofessional. But in reality, how many transfers didn't involve such behavior?
Clubs spent significant resources scouting and negotiating with players; they had to be sure the player wanted to join before formalizing deals. Otherwise, a last-minute refusal could waste both time and money, as seen in cases like Kaká rejecting Manchester City in the past.
"So, what now?" Miguel Gil asked, clearly troubled.
He had grown accustomed to turning to Yang Hao for advice. No matter the issue, the young coach always seemed to have a clear vision and strategic insight.
"Sell them," Yang Hao said decisively.
Originally, Yang Hao had hoped to keep Capdevila and Molina. Both were solid local players and integral to maintaining a strong Spanish core in the locker room—a crucial element for stability.
But plans needed to change.
"From now on, if there's any movement in the transfer market, or if any club contacts us, you must inform me immediately. I need to be fully aware of what's happening."
Yang Hao's intention wasn't to wrest control from Sporting Director Paulo Futre but to ensure the transfer strategy aligned with his vision.
As someone with knowledge of the future, Yang Hao understood players' trajectories better than anyone. If left solely to Futre, who knew what kind of team he might assemble?
This was no trivial matter.
Given the current situation, Atlético was poised for a significant overhaul this summer. If the transfer strategy faltered, the team could face another relegation battle next season.
And if that were the case, Yang Hao would seriously reconsider his future.
"Understood. I'll discuss this with Paulo," Miguel Gil assured him, fully trusting Yang Hao's judgment.
"You should also speak with Jesus Gil and Enrique Cerezo. Some of my decisions might seem odd or even baffling at first, but I hope they'll understand and trust my reasoning. I'm planning not just for next season but for the long term."
Yang Hao wanted to manage expectations, preparing the management for his unorthodox moves.
For instance, he intended to sell Hugo Leal—a 20-year-old Portuguese talent highly regarded by many. Yang Hao, however, had no place for him in his plans.
As for Juninho Paulista, currently on loan at Middlesbrough, Yang Hao also decided to let him go. Now, it was just a matter of negotiating the right price.
This summer, Atlético would undergo a complete transformation. Yang Hao needed the board's unwavering support to see it through.
After some thought, Miguel Gil nodded solemnly.
"Don't worry. My father has already entrusted me with full authority over the club's reform and restructuring. I trust you completely."
Hearing this, Yang Hao felt reassured.
Miguel Gil, however, had another important matter on his mind—something that required further discussion with his father and Enrique Cerezo. The timing wasn't quite right yet, but it would be soon.
It was an unusually quiet afternoon.
When Yang Hao woke up in his bedroom, he felt refreshed and full of energy.
Perhaps it was because everyone knew he was on vacation—he hadn't received a single call since morning. After reviewing footage of the two-legged Champions League semifinal between Real Madrid and Bayern Munich, he had enjoyed a leisurely lunch before taking a satisfying nap.
The world can be peculiar sometimes—just like the Champions League.
When was Bayern Munich at its strongest?
Yang Hao felt it was likely in 1999. But unfortunately, they ran into Sir Alex Ferguson's Manchester United, overflowing with momentum and luck, becoming nothing more than the backdrop for one of United's greatest moments. Who could Bayern turn to for solace?
Even this season, Bayern remained formidable.
With a midfield boasting Effenberg, Scholl, Jeremies, Salihamidzic, Fink, and Paulo Sérgio, Ottmar Hitzfeld's team maintained its impressive standards. Their forward line—Elber, Jancker, Zickler, and Santa Cruz—was nothing short of luxurious.
Yet, they were worn down in the semifinals by Vicente del Bosque's Real Madrid.
More notably, anyone could see that this season's Real Madrid wasn't as strong as Bayern.
Take the second leg at the Olympiastadion in Munich. After losing 2–0 to Madrid in the first leg, Bayern launched a furious opening attack at home, scoring in the 13th minute.
Madrid barely withstood Bayern's opening onslaught.
But then, something odd happened—Bayern hesitated. Their players lacked a unified strategy.
With their strength, Bayern could have pushed for a second goal to level the tie. But Hitzfeld and his players chose a more cautious approach.
As soon as Bayern eased up, Madrid took advantage.
Frenchman Nicolas Anelka, playing as a lone striker, connected with Savio's left-wing cross in the 31st minute. His powerful header essentially ended Bayern's hopes.
One away goal was all it took to seal Bayern's fate.
Though Bayern won the match 2–1, it didn't matter.
Despite their dip in morale, Bayern still created numerous chances, including a few golden opportunities. Scholl and Elber, however, failed to capitalize.
Some called it fate.
Between 1999 and 2000, it seemed as though Europe owed Bayern a Champions League trophy. In 2001, when Bayern's overall strength had visibly declined, the gods seemed to smile on them—granting them the title.
Unfortunately, this came at the expense of Héctor Cúper's Valencia, who suffered heartbreak in three consecutive European finals.
Yang Hao wasn't one for superstition. He didn't believe in "fate."
He simply felt that Bayern's squad wasn't strong enough at the time. Their match control was lacking, leaving little room for error—a fatal flaw in knockout competitions.
And then there was Real Madrid.
They had spent €30 million on Anelka, who had been at odds with the club all season. Everyone knew the Frenchman would leave at the end of the campaign.
But in the two most critical games of the season, he scored twice, carrying Madrid to the Champions League final.
So, was that €30 million well spent or not?
As Yang Hao stepped out, the first thing he did was summon the team's locker room manager.
The long-serving club employee, known simply as Ramón, greeted him with his signature cheerful smile.
"Two new players will start training with the team this afternoon. Make sure the locker room is ready," Yang Hao instructed.
He was referring to Fernando Torres and Gabi.
Ramón grinned and nodded. "I've already been informed."
Interestingly, fans always hope to see their club's academy players promoted to the first team—true "homegrown talents."
News of Torres and Gabi joining the senior squad had already spread, and the locker room was abuzz.
Indeed, veterans like captain Toni Muñoz, Aguilera, Santi Denia, and Kiko were all prepared. They knew new faces would arrive for afternoon training.
Yang Hao encouraged the senior players to mentor the newcomers while reminding them of their importance to the team.
"This summer will bring even greater challenges," Yang Hao said earnestly. "It'll be tough. I hope you'll continue supporting me and the club."
Sharing the locker room, Muñoz and Aguilera were well aware of the team's issues. Many players had already arranged their departures, while others remained on the fence.
Take Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink, for instance.
Do you know how many clubs were after this season's La Liga top scorer?
A Marca report tallied 15 clubs that had expressed formal interest in Hasselbaink—after Atlético secured safety. The number would have been higher before.
Most suitors came from the Premier League, with a few from La Liga.
Yang Hao estimated that over 15 players would leave Atlético this summer, a massive overhaul that couldn't be avoided. After this chaotic season, many had lost faith in the club.
Of course, Atlético wasn't alone.
Sevilla, already relegated, reportedly expected more than 20 departures this summer. Their star center-back, Carlos Marchena, was one of their most valuable assets and likely to be sold.
Similarly, Real Betis, another relegated side, planned a significant clear-out. Their marquee forward, Alfonso, had reportedly agreed to join Barcelona for a hefty €16.5 million.
An interesting tidbit: the player in question came from Real Madrid's youth academy.
For top-flight teams, relegation signifies disaster and collapse.
The Premier League fares relatively better, thanks to its parachute payments. In La Liga, however, relegation slashes revenues drastically, leaving clubs reliant on selling players to survive.
Yang Hao's misfortune was inheriting Atlético Madrid late in the season, when everyone assumed the club was destined for relegation. By then, the players had mentally checked out. But against all odds, he succeeded in securing survival.
Even so, a complete overhaul was inevitable for the new season.
For Yang Hao, this posed a brand-new challenge.
Tinkering with and stabilizing a team mid-season is vastly different from building a squad from scratch. Most managers excel at only one of these approaches, and mastering either can guarantee a successful career in European football.
For Yang Hao, this would be his ultimate test. Success here would firmly establish his reputation in Europe.
That afternoon, before training.
When Fernando Torres and Gabi nervously arrived at Atlético Madrid's first-team training facility in Majadahonda and cautiously entered the locker room, the first person they encountered was Ramón, the locker room manager.
"Come on in, boys. Mr. Yang has already taken care of everything," Ramón said warmly.
Hearing this, the two youngsters felt even more grateful to their head coach.
Ramón gave them a tour of the first-team locker room, pointing out the players' lockers and seats, explaining their habits, and familiarizing them with the team's environment.
Finally, he brought them to their assigned spots, where their kits, boots, and training gear were neatly arranged.
As a club with sponsors, Atlético Madrid strictly enforced rules against wearing non-sponsored brands at Majadahonda or the Calderón Stadium. However, players were free to choose their boots.
As the session drew closer, the two rookies could no longer sit still.
Sitting in the locker room, they watched as one star player after another walked in—Fresnedoso from the club's double-winning era, veteran captain Toni Muñoz, on-field captain Aguilera, and heavyweights like Juan Carlos Valerón and Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink.
When Torres finally saw Kiko, he froze in awe.
Kiko was his lifelong idol.
Before this moment, Torres had rehearsed countless scenarios in his head, imagining what he would say when he finally met his hero. Yet now, he found himself completely speechless.
Kiko, however, approached with a smile, ruffling the freckled teenager's hair.
"I've heard about you for a while now, Fernando. You've finally made it to the first team!" Kiko said warmly, as if they were old friends.
"Y-yes," stammered Torres, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.
"The boss says you'll be better than me. I'm looking forward to it!" Kiko said with a grin.
Torres stiffened, unsure how to interpret his idol's words.
"Relax, kid. You're young. Of course, you should be better than me—that's how you make a name for yourself and keep Atlético strong. Isn't that right?" Kiko said, quickly putting the nervous youngster at ease.
Torres nodded, finding Kiko's words logical.
Only someone who truly loved Atlético would say something like that.
"Starting today, you'll train with me. But let me warn you—I'll be tough on you. Especially your technique. The boss says it's terrible," Kiko teased.
If Yang Hao had been there, he would have protested.
"Terrible"? I just said it needs refining!
"And your physique—it's too weak. You need to bulk up. Aim for something like that," Kiko added, pointing to Hasselbaink.
The Dutch striker overheard and immediately struck several bodybuilding poses, showing off his impressive muscles with a grin.
Torres was both stunned and amused.
Weren't they supposed to have a toxic locker room atmosphere?
Why didn't it match the rumors?
On the other side of the room, Gabi was having a similar experience. Yang Hao had assigned captain Aguilera to mentor him.
Meanwhile, Antonio López had already been under the guidance of veteran Toni Muñoz for some time.
Yang Hao believed that pairing experienced players with young talents would help integrate the newcomers into the locker room and accelerate their growth into vital first-team members.
The senior players didn't mind. Many of them were already planning to leave the club and weren't looking to stir up any trouble.
Besides, with Yang Hao in charge, what waves could they possibly make?
Yang Hao's first impression of Torres was: Is this really Fernando Torres?
Freckled all over, and not the least bit handsome!
When he noticed how nervous Torres seemed, barely daring to sneak a glance at him, Yang Hao couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. Yet, a sense of satisfaction rose in his chest as well.
This is Fernando Torres!
A future world-class striker!
For now, though, he was just a young, freckle-faced boy trembling in front of his coach. The thought alone filled Yang Hao with pride.
"You don't need to overthink things," Yang Hao reassured him with a calm, soothing tone. "Just focus on doing your best. Leave everything else to me, understand?"
For reasons unknown, Torres seemed to place absolute trust in Yang Hao. He lifted his head, looking at his coach, and nodded firmly.
As it turned out, Torres had a strong mentality. Or perhaps it was better to say that all professional athletes required one. The bigger the name, the greater their capacity to handle pressure.
For players like Torres, nerves were merely a fleeting phase.
True to form, as soon as he stepped onto the pitch for training, Torres got into the zone. The same applied to Gabi.
Although Gabi might not be a household name even in 2023, Yang Hao had always admired the player.
One moment that particularly stood out to Yang Hao happened during the 2016/17 season. In a match, Torres collided with an opponent, landing headfirst and losing consciousness. Gabi was the first to administer emergency aid, pulling Torres' tongue out to prevent airway obstruction.
At the time, Yang Hao marveled at how Gabi had the presence of mind to act so quickly. Surely he must have learned basic first aid at some point.
Gabi's return to Atlético Madrid from Zaragoza marked the start of an impressive stint. His consistency and incredible work rate remained evident even into his thirties. Known for his passing, organization, and defensive acumen, Gabi became one of the most reliable midfielders in La Liga.
More importantly, his defensive contributions often outshone his attacking ones. He was one of the most impactful defensive midfielders in the league, playing a pivotal role in Atlético's resurgence under Simeone.
Sadly, he never earned a cap for Spain—not due to a lack of talent, but because of the sheer depth of the national team during his prime.
Both Torres and Gabi were only 16 years old at this point. Yang Hao wasn't in a rush to rely on them but was determined to give them a chance. What they needed was a nurturing environment to grow.
As a forum member once said: "Geniuses don't need grinding—they just need a platform."
Yang Hao could sense their gratitude toward him.
May 18th, Evening: La Liga's Final Matchday.
Atlético Madrid traveled to face Real Mallorca.
Yang Hao opted to rest Hasselbaink, leaving the striker in Madrid to prepare for the Copa del Rey final. Other key players like Solari, Aguilera, and Valerón were also left out.
The lineup featured Antonio López, Toni Muñoz, Ayala, and Zoran Njegus in defense, with Muñoz, the veteran captain, playing as a center-back.
In midfield, Fresnedoso and Óscar Mena formed a double pivot, with José Luque, Hugo Leal, and Paunović ahead of them. Kiko started up front as the lone striker.
It was essentially a full reserve lineup, given that the match held no significance for Atlético.
Meanwhile, Mallorca's strike partnership featured Samuel Eto'o and Diego Tristán. Yang Hao instructed his team to adopt a defensive counter-attacking approach.
However, true to his philosophy, he demanded an aggressive start.
Within five minutes, Paunović latched onto Kiko's pass and opened the scoring for Atlético.
Mallorca equalized in the 15th minute, thanks to Eto'o.
The two sides traded blows until the 31st minute, when López and Luque combined down the left flank for a quick counterattack. Luque delivered a precise cross to the center, where Kiko tapped it in.
2–1!
In the second half, with both teams lacking motivation, the match settled into a steady rhythm.
At the 60th minute, Yang Hao made two substitutions: Torres replaced Kiko, and Gabi came on for Mena.
Both were like-for-like swaps. The two youngsters had spent days learning the 4-2-3-1 system and knew their roles.
However, they were still raw.
Gabi worked tirelessly but was hesitant when on the ball.
Torres, meanwhile, displayed confidence and energy but struggled with the physicality of Mallorca's defenders. Time and again, he was outmuscled and sent sprawling.
It was clear that both players were eager to prove themselves, but they lacked maturity.
Toward the end of the match, Torres had a golden opportunity. Receiving a through ball from Hugo Leal, he turned past his marker and burst forward, leaving everyone behind.
But his inexperience showed in the final moments. Mallorca's goalkeeper, Leo Franco, expertly closed him down, leaving Torres with no angle to shoot.
In the end, Atlético Madrid secured a 2–1 victory over Real Mallorca.
Yang Hao's side closed the season with six consecutive wins.
When the two young players walked off the pitch, their heads hung low, clearly dissatisfied with their debuts.
But Yang Hao greeted them with a smile, pulling both close.
"You both did great. Keep working hard for next season!" he encouraged.
Both Torres and Gabi stared at him in disbelief, their eyes wide with wonder.
Did this mean… they were staying in the first team?
Yang Hao, sensing their confusion, decided to keep things ambiguous for his own amusement.
Let them stew on it for a while!
The thought of the two teenagers overthinking and losing sleep filled him with glee.
All 38 rounds of La Liga were finally completed.
Atlético Madrid's 2–1 victory over Real Mallorca may not have been a high-stakes game, but the fact that Atlético fielded an all-reserve lineup and still won certainly caught people's attention—especially Yang Hao's.
More importantly, this match marked the debut of two young players, 16-year-old Fernando Torres and Gabi. When Torres came on to replace Kiko, it felt like a symbolic passing of the torch between Atlético's attacking legends.
At the post-match press conference, Mendióroz highlighted Yang Hao's assessment of the moment, calling it "the handover ceremony between Atlético's past and future striking icons."
"He firmly believes that Torres will become a world-class striker," Mendióroz added.
However, everyone knew that Torres was far from ready. His lack of physicality was glaring, especially in duels.
Elsewhere in the league, Deportivo La Coruña capped their title-winning campaign with a 2–0 victory over Espanyol. Their championship had been a foregone conclusion for weeks.
Barcelona, meanwhile, drew 2–2 at home against Celta Vigo. Following the game, Louis van Gaal announced his departure from the club, news that surprised no one. His exit had seemed inevitable since president Núñez stepped down.
The real shock came from Madrid. Real Madrid, aiming for a Champions League spot, lost 1–0 at home to Valladolid, while Valencia secured a 2–1 win over Zaragoza.
This left Valencia in third, Zaragoza in fourth, and Madrid in fifth—a disaster for Los Blancos.
When Yang Hao saw the results, he couldn't contain his joy. Standing in the locker room, he declared:
"Once we secured survival, it feels like even the heavens are on our side!"
Why?
La Liga only had four Champions League spots. For Real Madrid to qualify, they now had to win the Champions League final and claim a place as defending champions, thereby bumping Zaragoza out of the competition.
It was a cruel twist for Zaragoza, who had fought so hard for their fourth-place finish, only to find their fate tied to Valencia's success against Madrid in the final.
The situation heaped immense pressure on Madrid—good news for Atlético.
In the final round, many mid- and lower-table teams had nothing to play for, leading to lackluster results. Mallorca lacked fight in their loss to Atlético, Espanyol fell to Deportivo, Málaga drew 0–0 with Racing Santander, Oviedo lost 0–1 to Real Sociedad, and Numancia fell 1–2 to Betis.
Thanks to this chaos, Atlético's three points propelled them to a surprising 12th place in the final standings, tied on points with Athletic Bilbao in 11th. However, head-to-head results (2–4 and 1–2 losses to Bilbao) left Atlético in 12th.
This was a result Yang Hao could never have imagined.
They had spent most of the season languishing in the relegation zone, only to surge into a mid-table finish in the final month.
The story captured the imagination of fans and media worldwide. Yang Hao, at just 25 years old, had demonstrated his tactical acumen by leading a seemingly doomed team to safety in one of La Liga's most chaotic seasons.
Even more impressive was his record against Spain's top teams. Yang Hao had managed four wins in four games against Barcelona and Valencia, two of the Champions League semifinalists.
Now, with the Copa del Rey final against Real Madrid looming, he had a chance to make it three semifinalists defeated in one season.
Spain's El País, once skeptical of Yang Hao, now hailed him as a "giant slayer."
Yang Hao couldn't help but feel a little pleased as he read the headlines. But while the recognition brought a sense of pride, he quickly moved on.
One piece of news, however, caught his attention.
He immediately picked up the phone and called Miguel Gil.
"What?"
When Miguel Gil and Paulo Futre walked into Yang Hao's office at the Majadahonda training ground and heard his suggestion, both were stunned.
"You want to buy Edwin van der Sar?"
"That's… impossible, isn't it?"
Their immediate reaction was disbelief.
"Why not?" Yang Hao asked, his tone calm but firm.
Futre chuckled, shaking his head as if explaining something to a naive youngster.
"Let me guess. You've seen all the headlines across Europe criticizing him—especially from the Italian press close to Juventus, and the Juventus fans tearing into him—so you think he'll come cheap?"
Yang Hao nodded, not denying it.
"But have you considered why Van der Sar is being criticized so harshly? Why so many fans and pundits are saying he should get his eyesight checked? Do you know the reason?"
"Of course. That mistake in the final round."
Yang Hao was referring to the infamous final match of the 1999–2000 Serie A season. On May 14, Juventus, needing a win to secure the Scudetto, faced Perugia away. Van der Sar's blunder early in the second half gifted Perugia the decisive goal, leading to a 1–0 defeat and handing the title to Lazio.
Van der Sar's gaffe capped a season riddled with similar mistakes, making him the scapegoat for Juventus's collapse.
But Yang Hao wasn't concerned about that.
"It's not just this one game," Futre countered. "He's made numerous blunders this season. The Italian press is crucifying him for a reason. Juventus fans think he's been a liability."
"Let me remind you, Yang," Futre added. "Van der Sar is nearly 30."
Yang Hao laughed inwardly, resisting the urge to point out: Exactly! He's almost 30, still relatively inexperienced, and about to enter the prime of his career.
Instead, he calmly replied, "Molina is 30 as well, and that hasn't stopped him from being a top-class goalkeeper."
Miguel Gil frowned, intrigued by Yang Hao's insistence. "But why Van der Sar specifically?"
"Because he's an elite goalkeeper," Yang Hao said confidently. Seeing Futre's skeptical expression, he doubled down: "One of the best in the world."
Futre's smile froze. Such a bold statement seemed absurd given Van der Sar's current reputation.
"Explain," Miguel said.
Yang Hao couldn't outright reveal his knowledge of Van der Sar's future—that the Dutchman would be sold to Fulham before revitalizing his career at Manchester United under Sir Alex Ferguson. Instead, he framed his reasoning around observable facts and logic.
"First of all, Italy is renowned for producing great goalkeepers. They've developed an advanced and highly specific training system for keepers. I've discussed this at length with Giorgio Pellizzaro," Yang Hao began. Pellizzaro was Atlético's goalkeeping coach, with experience in Italy.
"Our goalkeeping training here at Atlético is already different because of Pellizzaro's methods. Molina himself has struggled to adapt to some of these techniques. You can ask Pedro Jaro about it—he's been studying the differences."
Yang Hao continued, "Now imagine Van der Sar, a Dutch goalkeeper with an entirely different training background, moving to Italy—a country that has never had a foreign starting goalkeeper at Juventus before. He didn't just face language barriers; he had to adapt to a completely foreign system, and Juventus's coaches had no experience training someone like him."
"Think about how many conflicts and misunderstandings that would create," Yang Hao said, pausing to let his words sink in.
Gil and Futre were silent. Yang Hao's perspective, digging into the systemic and cultural issues, was something they hadn't considered.
"Despite all that," Yang Hao pressed on, "Juventus conceded just 20 goals this season—the best defensive record in Serie A. Lazio, the champions, conceded 33."
"People credit Juventus's defensive solidity for this, but even Ancelotti has expressed dissatisfaction with their defensive setup, calling it too slow. Van der Sar, meanwhile, kept 18 clean sheets—one of the best records in Europe."
"But," Yang Hao clarified, "I'm not saying Van der Sar has been flawless. Far from it. His performances have been inconsistent—brilliant at times, terrible at others. The high-profile mistakes stick in everyone's mind."
Miguel and Futre exchanged glances. Yang Hao's analysis had merit, but the idea still felt risky.
Yang Hao smiled, sensing their hesitation. "Look, the media and fans may be emotional, but let's be pragmatic. Van der Sar is a world-class goalkeeper who's been forced into a system that doesn't suit him. With the right support and adjustments, he can thrive again.
"And here's the best part," he added. "Right now, Juventus would probably be happy to sell him at a discount just to get him off their books. It's a golden opportunity."
Miguel frowned. "How much are we talking?"
"His current market value is around €12–14 million," Yang Hao estimated, "but after this season, I bet Juventus would accept €8–10 million."
"That's still a lot for a goalkeeper," Futre noted.
"Yes, but it's worth it," Yang Hao insisted. "If we get Van der Sar, we're not just solving our goalkeeping problem; we're setting a standard. This is the kind of signing that tells everyone: Atlético Madrid means business."
Miguel leaned back, clearly intrigued but still cautious. "Alright, we'll discuss it with the board. But Yang, if we commit to this, you'd better make sure Van der Sar delivers."
Yang Hao nodded confidently. "Trust me. He will."
"For example, take the UEFA Cup Round of 16 second-leg match against Celta Vigo. Despite winning the first leg 1–0, Juventus lost the second leg 0–4, with Van der Sar bombarded with shots throughout."
Yang Hao recalled reading a sarcastic commentary about the game in his previous life:
In 2000, Carlo Ancelotti's conservatism reached such an extreme that even Juventus fans, accustomed to the defensive tendencies of Serie A's most defensive teams, couldn't bear to watch anymore.
Juventus conceding only 20 goals all season seemed impressive, right? But do you know how many goals they scored?
Only 46.
Lazio, who won the league, scored 64 goals. Third-placed AC Milan had 65, and fourth-placed Inter Milan scored 58. Juventus's 46 goals ranked them 8th in Serie A, behind Udinese, Fiorentina, and Parma.
The running joke? Juventus's most reliable attack strategy was: Van der Sar kicks the ball long, Filippo Inzaghi runs into the penalty area and falls, Alessandro Del Piero converts the penalty, and Juventus grinds out a 1–0 win.
Had someone told Juventus fans in 2000 that Ancelotti would one day be synonymous with stylish football, they would've laughed until they couldn't breathe.
Yang Hao believed that the issues Van der Sar faced at Juventus were systemic, not a reflection of his ability.
"I think the football world grossly underestimates the value of goalkeepers. Look at this statistic: globally, goalkeepers have the lowest average salaries among all 11 positions on the field. Their transfer fees are also the lowest."
At this point, Gianluigi Buffon's record-breaking transfer had yet to occur, so Yang Hao's observation carried significant weight.
"As the only player on the pitch allowed to use their hands, goalkeepers are treated differently. Even legendary managers like Ferguson and Hitzfeld exclude goalkeepers from their tactical systems during training."
Yang Hao noted that even in 2023, goalkeepers were often isolated during training sessions, working alone in separate areas. Many didn't participate in team drills except during scrimmages. Consequently, managers cared less about a goalkeeper's height or technical ability.
This attitude persisted even after the rise of revolutionary goalkeepers like Manuel Neuer.
In 2000, Yang Hao's argument was groundbreaking, almost heretical. Miguel Gil and Paulo Futre were stunned, unsure how to process it.
"Does he have a point?" they thought.
Yang Hao's views clashed with conventional wisdom but sounded strangely logical.
"I understand," Miguel Gil finally said, choosing to trust Yang Hao's judgment.
He didn't fully grasp the technicalities but believed in Yang Hao's vision.
Paulo Futre, frowning thoughtfully, offered a more cautious take. "Even if Juventus wants to sell Van der Sar, persuading him to join us won't be easy. Remember, he rejected Manchester United to join Juventus. Convincing him to leave Serie A for Atlético might be a challenge."
Atlético was a mid-table La Liga team in name but faced well-known financial struggles. Attracting someone like Van der Sar wouldn't be simple.
"Let's start by negotiating with Juventus directly," Yang Hao suggested. "If they're willing to sell, we'll have an opening. If necessary, I'll personally meet with Van der Sar to demonstrate our sincerity."
It wasn't uncommon for managers to meet players directly to secure a deal.
Miguel Gil and Paulo Futre agreed it was worth a try.
"Still, I recommend having a backup plan in case things don't work out," Futre cautioned.
Yang Hao nodded. He already had an alternative in mind: Czech goalkeeper Petr Čech.
Čech had moved from Viktoria Plzeň in the Czech second division to FK Chmel Blšany in the Czech First League in 1999. In the just-concluded season, he made his debut, playing a full match in a 1–3 loss to Sparta Prague.
At only 18, Čech was still raw.
If possible, Yang Hao preferred Van der Sar's experience and proven ability.
(End of Chapter)
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